I’m not shocked by the revelation that some children are refusing to sit next to their Christian or Muslim classmates. I knew it was coming.
On Oct 15, Puncak Borneo Member of Parliament Willie Mongin raised concerns in the Dewan Rakyat about religious intolerance among primary school children.
He said a teacher told him that some children said: “I don’t want to sit with them because they eat pork,” or “I don’t want to sit with them because they wear a cross”.
This is far more than a classroom management problem. It is a symptom of a society that is quietly fracturing along ethnic and religious lines — and in Malaysia’s multiethnic reality, that fracture is a national security threat.
In a country where the delicate balance between the Malay-Muslim majority and the Chinese, Indian, and indigenous minorities has historically been the cornerstone of stability, the early crystallisation of “us versus them” at the primary-school level is terribly dangerous, to say the least.
When children are socialised to view difference as a threat rather than a shared reality, the foundation of our society — the mutual accommodation that has kept us together for decades — begins to crumble before critical thinking even develops.
As Mongin warned, if this trend is not addressed at the youngest age, it will inevitably spread, feeding the very 3R controversies that have destabilised Malaysian politics in recent years.
This should not be treated as an isolated case for it reflects deeper structural patterns that threaten Malaysia’s unity.
It is dangerous because it erodes the trust and understanding that underpin social relations, business partnerships and even political alliances. Worse, it creates a radicalisation pipeline: isolated children become vulnerable to extremist online narratives.
I said I knew it was coming. The rise of ethno-religious nationalism, especially since the early 2000s, has amplified our differences.
When an increasing number of politicians unashamedly fire up religion- or race-related issues to win votes or to be seen as champions of their race or religion - and then get away with it or are cheered on by their supporters - what do you expect to happen?
Political rhetoric often frames racial and religious purity as mobilisation tools; and children absorb the tone of such public discourse.
Another reason is that the different communities have moved into their own silos, interacting at work, in school and elsewhere only when and where necessary.
And unlike in the past, the norm today is for children to play or share activities with those of their own race. When school is the only mixed space, and that space is already poisoned by home prejudices or online content, the classroom turns into a battleground instead of a bridge.
Digital poisoning makes the problem worse. Some social media platforms prioritise outrage, with algorithms amplifying hate speech and fake news. Children encounter dehumanising content that normalises rejection of the “other.”
When a pupil says, “I don’t want to sit with them because they wear a cross,” they may have internalised a viral meme or attack on that symbol.
I can go on, but all of us know there are many unspeakable elephants in the room that authorities need to address.
Existing “unity” programmes are well-intentioned but episodic and top-down. They rely on short camps or lectures rather than daily, sustained interaction.
Without structural changes in curriculum and teacher training, they will continue to fail in shifting deep prejudices. Teacher training must include conflict resolution and intercultural communication. Remedies must be structural, not performative as they have been.
Curriculum reform should prioritise critical thinking, media literacy and emotional intelligence over rote “unity” modules. Students need to learn how to deconstruct hate speech and engage in dialogue.
Schools need more group activities to build positive associations.
Digital literacy must become a core subject, not an add-on. Perhaps workshops can be organised for parents on how to guide their children’s online consumption.
Government and civil society must emphasize shared third spaces — mixed sports leagues, arts programmes and community projects — to generate organic positive interactions.
Above all, political leaders must stop exploiting religious and racial divisions for gain. Rhetoric that validates children’s prejudices undermines the very unity they are supposed to defend.
The refusal of six-year-olds to share a desk is small in scale but carries enormous weight. It is a snapshot of Malaysia at a crossroads. If treated as a minor issue, the country risks losing its social cohesion entirely.
If addressed with serious, structural reforms in education, digital literacy and political leadership, genuine unity may be possible.
In a multiethnic society, separation is not merely a social preference — it is a national security threat. Malaysia cannot afford to let its youngest generation grow up believing that difference is a threat rather than a shared reality. The time for action is now.
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.